


Conversation Hearts

by LikeMeReckless



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22758637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeMeReckless/pseuds/LikeMeReckless
Summary: With all Betty has been through lately, Jughead decides to show her just how loved she is this Valentine’s Day with a little help from friends and family.
Relationships: Alice Cooper/FP Jones II, Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Cheryl Blossom/Toni Topaz, Fangs Fogarty/Kevin Keller
Comments: 38
Kudos: 171
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees, Fall in Love with Riverdale: A Valentine's Event





	Conversation Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jandjsalmon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jandjsalmon/gifts).



> Thanks for reading! First off, this fic would be a disaster without the wonderful editing skills of @jandjsalmon. This fic is for her, for being such a positive and supportive force in the fandom!
> 
> Also, I had “The Luckiest” By Ben Folds in my head while I wrote this as an anthem Bughead if you want a song to listen to while reading. I’ve tossed in some of the lyrics to open the story.

**“I don't get many things right the first time,**

**In fact, I am told that a lot**

**Now I know all the wrong turns the stumbles,**

**And falls brought me here**

**And where was I before the day**

**That I first saw your lovely face,**

**Now I see it every day**

**And I know**

**That I am, I am, I am, the luckiest**

**I love you more then have**

**Ever found the way to say**

**To you**

**Next door there's an old man who lived to his nineties and one day**

**Passed away in his sleep,**

**And his wife, she stayed for a couple of days, and passed away**

**I'm sorry I know that's a strange way to tell you that I know we belong,**

**That I know**

**That I am, I am, I am, the luckiest”**

**Monday, February 3, 2020**

**8:30 am**

Betty used to be the girl who loved Valentine’s Day. Her diaries were decorated with gel pen pink and red hearts around her February entries with hopes that this would finally be the year that Archie sent her a rose from the Student Council Valentine fundraiser. 

She had hung little heart garlands on her locker and picked out a new, special shade of pink lip gloss each February first in honor of the month of love. She would purchase little heart sticker packs from the Hallmark Store and pepper them on her notes, photos and even occasionally, on her pristine, white Keds.

But that Betty Cooper no longer existed. That Betty lived in a bubblegum, fairytale, marshmallow world where Black Hoods and Gargoyle King’s didn’t exist. Where ginger boys with guitars sent love notes in the form of paper airplanes through the windows of pretty girls who smiled back.

She wasn’t so jaded that she didn’t believe in love or romance at all; in fact, it was quite the opposite. In her relationship with Jughead she learned that love isn’t stickers and flowers, but it’s gritty and raw and not always easy. Love is honesty and trust. It’s dependability. Love is burning down a drug-laden trailer or taking you in when your family leaves you flat. It’s all-encompassing and it’s beautiful. 

The most important thing she’s learned is that love is being yourself and not having to hide the parts of yourself that don’t fit the image of perfection.

So, on this first Monday in February, as she laced up her pristine white Keds, Betty tossed on a blue sweater, not coral, fuchsia, or red, and headed to class at Riverdale High, rolling her eyes at the glittery pink banner over the student council table that read, “Get her a rose so she knows. Flowers are love.”

“Flowers are allergens,” she huffed to herself before heading towards her locker.

“Yikes, B. Who peed in your rose garden this morning?” Veronica quipped, cocking her head to the side as she fell in step with her jaded counterpart.

“No one did, V. It’s just after everything that I’ve been through,” Betty began, pausing to reconsider her companion. “Everything  _ we  _ have been through in the past few years, don’t you think it’s all just a little juvenile, antiquated and staged?  _ Fake  _ even?”

Veronica paused to consider her words as they reached Betty’s locker before nodding slowly, more so in understanding than agreement.

“I get what you’re saying, B. Truly, more than anyone I do. But, there’s still something to be said about a little romance. I know we’re strong and independent women, but every once in a while it’s nice to be doted on or just engage in some fluffy good old fashioned tradition. We deserve it. Especially after everything we’ve been through.”

Putting in the last number in her combination, Betty shrugged at Veronica before pulling open her locker. Gazing up at the top shelf that held her textbooks, she noticed strands of white ribbon hanging down from the upper shelf, little mint green, pink, and yellow hearts attached to them.

Curious, she stopped one of the spinning candies that had gained momentum at the pull of her locker door and examined it between her fingers.

“Heart of Gold,” the yellow one read. Betty moved on to the mint green heart next. “You & Me,” she read allowed before snatching the pink one which was stamped with, “Text Me.”

“Hey, V,” Betty began, slowly turning from her locker to share her discovery with her friend. “Who do you think…”

Betty failed to finish her question as she saw the knowing and cat-like grin on Veronica’s face.

“Who else, B?” she asked her. “Everyone here knows you are too far gone and head over heels to even try to steal your affections away from your beau. These are from thatfar-away Romeo, locked in his literal castle at Stonewall Prep.”

“But, how?” Betty puzzled, trying to suppress her grin, but failing miserably.

Veronica’s hands flew up in defense. “I cannot reveal his secrets. But when you talk to him, ask him to teach Archie a thing or two about romance. The boy is sweet, but grand romantic gestures? Not his forte.”

Tapping her friend’s shoulder, Veronica headed down the hallway in the opposite direction to class while Betty snapped a photo of the dangling candy before pulling the three sugary hearts from where they hung, popping them into her mouth and heading down to the Blue & Gold.

Shutting the door behind her, Betty flopped into her desk chair. Rather than boot up her computer as usual, which wasn’t possible since her suspension, she pulled the tiny ribbon strings from her candy treats out of her pocket and braided them together like a childhood friendship bracelet. 

She felt a bit giddy and warm; almost like the old Betty, but with a much clearer perspective on things. Wrapping the braided string around her wrist, she fastened it in the back with a knot. Veronica was right. The romance and the cliche weren’t needed for real love, but they didn’t hurt every once in a while.

Taking out her cell phone, Betty snapped a picture of her new jewelry and inserted that and the picture of her locker into a text message to her boyfriend.

**BC:** So it appears my locker was vandalized by Willy Wonka overnight.

**JJ:** The scandal! The outrage. I’ve told you time and time again that Oompa Loompas are dangerous creatures.

Grinning to herself, Betty texted him back.

**BC** : I have a feeling this Oompa Loompa was over six feet tall and may have handpicked the little confectionary surprises himself.

**JJ:** Can you blame him? Who wouldn’t want to express their feelings for you on hard, holiday shaped sugar rocks?

**BC** : Thank you, Jug. I needed that today.

**JJ:** Love you, Betts. XOXO

**BC** : Love you too, Juggie.

With a final glance down at her wrist, Betty pulled out some printed drafts for the next issue that needed editing, opting for a new pink gel pen to make her corrections. A little festivity couldn’t hurt, now could it?

**Saturday, February 1, 2020**

**7:57 am**

Jughead sat in the red vinyl booth at Pop’s, his coffee cooling in front of him as he waited for his accomplice to arrive. It was risky to meet at Pop’s since, on any given day, sixty percent of the town came through at one point or another, but it was the easiest location in which to meet.

Fiddling with his cup, he glanced up as the bell on the door signaled the arrival of another customer. It was, in fact, the customer he was waiting for.

“Alright, Jones,” Veronica said curiously. “To what do I owe this secretive, clandestine and  _ very  _ early meeting on this first day of February.”

It wasn’t unusual for them to be seen in Pop’s together; their friend group frequented the establishment regularly and Veronica was there on the daily as the owner. What  _ was  _ unusual was the lack of their significant others, Archie and Betty, alongside them in the booth.

“Thanks for meeting me,” he offered, a half-grin forming on his lips at her straight-to-business approach to their meeting. “I, uh, I need your help.”

“Have you done something awful? Pissed off the gothic gargoyles at Stonehell Prep?” 

Veronica slid into the booth across from him and took the cup of coffee he pushed her way, nodding in thanks that he had the foresight to order one for her as well.

“No, nothing like that,” he replied, shaking his head, fingers fidgeting with the handle of his coffee cup once more. “It’s actually something for Betty that I need your help with.”

Dipping her head to the side, Veronica raised an eyebrow in interest and sat up straighter in the seat across from him. 

“Alright, Jughead,” she spoke curiously. “Color me intrigued. Anything that will benefit my dear Bettykins definitely piques my interest.”

Jughead sat back in the booth, rubbing at the back of his neck with a palm before sliding it up and over his head, removing his worn grey hat in the process.

Veronica recoiled for a moment, taken aback by his uncharacteristic gesture. His demeanor suggested that he was worried, anxious almost and that made her uneasy if it was in relation to Betty.

“I want to-” he paused to consider his words for a second. “I  _ need  _ to do something for Betty for Valentine’s Day this year and it is a little out of my comfort zone.”

Nodding with a half-grin, and happy his dilemma was not of a serious nature, Veronica sipped her coffee before responding.

“And you need marvelous, romantic, grand plans from moi, I presume?”

With his ole for help made, he felt a sense of relief. It was odd for him to ask anyone for help, especially Veronica. 

“Actually, I already have plans. I just need you to be an accomplice since I can’t do everything from afar.”

He opened his mouth as if to continue speaking before sitting back and fidgeting with his coffee cup once again.

“Veronica,” he began, unsure of where to begin. “With… Yale and the aftermath of the events of last spring that I don’t think any of us ever really dealt with, I just want to give her something… good. Something that lets her know how much I… how much I love her,” he finished blushing, eyes shifting nervously down at the table.

Grinning at him, Veronica leaned forward on the tabletop, crossing her arms one over the other.

“So I’m the muscle in this covert operation of love. I can roll with that,” she mused. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

**Thursday, February 6, 2020**

**9:45 am**

The braided strands of fraying string were still tied around her wrist. She had been careful the past two nights not to jostle them in the shower or pull them when slipping on her sweater in morning. It was such a silly thing to care about really. It was just your standard hardware store white string from a spool. But the fact that he had gone out of his way from afar to start off the month for her spoke volumes.

In their world, there usually wasn’t time for the little things. Deadly games, psychotic cults, and hooded villains sort of overshadowed everything else. Perhaps that’s why this small gesture in the midst of chaos seemed so monumental and significant to her. It felt like a long time since someone had orchestrated anything just to make her smile.

Closing her locker, she tucked her AP Chem textbook under her arm and headed down to the science wing. 

She knew something was awry when she stood in the classroom doorway. Eighteen sets of eyes, all twinkling above grins, some envious and some giddy, met hers as she entered the room. Glancing down to make sure there wasn’t salad dressing on her shirt and that her jeans were, in fact, buttoned, she glanced at her classmates, perplexed, before heading down the front to the center aisle. 

As she slung her backpack off her shoulder and approached the lab table she shared with Veronica, she became very aware of why she was all of a sudden the epicenter of Riverdale High gossip.

Ronnie was in class, but standing back from their table, a cheshire cat grin on her face as Betty took up residence behind the waist-high metal slab. 

Gone were the beakers and Bunsen burners that normally littered the middle of their work surface. Instead, pink rose petals were scattered about the top, all centered around an enlarged picture of an element from the periodic table. 

Glancing closer, Betty realized the symbol Hg was that of Mercury. On a heart-shaped note card attached to the bottom, she read, “ _ A hug without U is just toxic.” _

Shaking her head at his inability to stay away from puns, Betty then noticed the little candy hearts scattered about. 

_ Too Hot. Whiz Kid. I Love You. _

The sound of an opening door drew her from her thoughts and observations and she looked up to find Dr. Beaker, their chemistry teacher, taking his spot in front of the class.

“Ah, Miss Cooper!” he smiled, opening his bag to take out their graded assignments from the previous day. “I see you’ve discovered your little love note from who I can only assume is somehow Mr. Jones. Yes?”

Blushing profusely, Betty nodded back.

“Yes, Dr. Beaker,” she replied. “I apologize for the mess. I’ll put the equipment back before I leave today.”

“Nonsense!” he grinned, beginning to pass back the packets that were littered with red marks to the dismay and groans of many students. “This is  _ chemistry  _ class after all. It’s nice to see a young man treating a lady right and that he thinks of you… periodically.”

While the joke flew over the heads of most of their classmates, Betty forced a laugh and nodded a slight thanks before pulling out her stool and sitting down next to Veronica, who had taken her own seat at some point during that interaction.

“Talk about chemistry, B,” Veronica drawled out, “But I have a feeling if Casanova keeps this up you’ll be returning the favor more so in the form of biology.”

“Oh my God, V!” Betty flushed, looking around to ensure no one else heard. “Could you say that any louder?”

At that moment, Ethel turned from the table in front of them to look at the floral display and sighed.

“If a boy did that for me, Betty, I’d be teaching him all about anatomy and physiology as soon as I got him alone.”

Her jaw dropping open in shock, Betty once again flushed before bursting into a fit of giggles with her two friends.

“Well,” she finally acquiesced, “I guess I do have the desire to prove to him that the Big Bang isn’t just a theory or a television show when he gets home.”

The girls’ giggles once again filled up the air. That was until Dr. Beaker dropped their papers on their lab tables and removed all joy from their DNA.

“Great,” Ethel sighed, morosely. “If only this C stood for Carbon.”

**Wednesday, February 5, 2020**

**8:30 am**

“Jughead, Boy,” FP said curiously as he came down the stairs and into the living room. “What are you doing at home? Don’t you have classes today?”

Lifting himself up off the couch he was reclining on, Jughead hugged his father briefly before sticking his hands back in his pockets.

“Not until this afternoon. I figured I could be home and back by then.”

FP eyed his son. It wasn’t unusual for him to come home, he was practically here every weekend. But, for him to be home when Betty wasn’t was another thing entirely.

“Is everything okay?” FP asked him, concerned. “Are you in trouble or did something happen?”

Jughead shrugged and shook his head, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a seat at the table.

“Does something have to be wrong for me to want to spend time with my father?” he asked, his voice filled with jest.

FP narrowed his eyes and tossed him an incredulous look to which Jughead laughed and shrugged in defeat.

“Alright. You’ve got me,” he conceded. “I need some help… with Betty.”

“Betty?” Alice’s high pitch repeat of her name sounded from the base of the steps. “What’s wrong with Betty? Did something happen? Is she pregnant? Because if she is, I swear to God, Jughead Jones that I will…”

“What?!” he barked out in disbelief. “How did you get Betty’s pregnant from I need help with Betty?”

“So she is pregnant?!” Alice yelled through the kitchen. “First a sex tape and now a teen pregnancy!”

“She is  _ not  _ pregnant.” Jughead sighed. “We are  _ not  _ the two of you. Look, I need help doing something for Betty. Something  _ nice. _ Something to help with this funk she’s been pretending she’s not in lately.”

Alice paused and took a deep breath, her shoulders heaving up before relaxing downward as her mind caught up to what he was saying. Offering him a nod and conceding smile, Alice sat down across from Jughead while FP took a seat next to him.

“I’m sorry Jughead. I didn’t mean to be… well, me,” Alice apologized softly. “I’ve just been so worried about her lately, too. And you- you’ve been so good to her and I’m so grateful. Sometimes I think you are the  _ only  _ thing holding her together.”

“I think you’ve been doing a decent job holding down the fort while I’m away,” he offered, sensing the sadness and regret in Alice’s tone.

“Well, we both know that’s only  _ partially  _ true,” she replied, offering him another smile anyway. “What can we do to help?”

Jughead rose from the kitchen chair and headed back into the living room. Grabbing a large duffle bag from the armchair, he returned to the kitchen and plopped the bag down on the table.

“When I told Betty I couldn’t make it home this weekend she was pretty disappointed. She pretended she was fine, but I could hear it in her voice.”

Casually, he unzipped the duffle and began removing items. 

“Veronica has been helping me with little things at school all week, just to let her know I’m thinking of her. I was hoping that Friday night you could set a few things up for me for Betty to come home to.”

On the table, Jughead had now placed pink, flannel PJs covered in red hearts, fuzzy red socks, some heart-shaped bath bombs, and a notecard with his messy scroll across the front.

FPs chest was puffed out, almost like a proud papa peacock while Alice’s gaze was soft and grateful.

“There’s an invitation to a girl’s spa day on Saturday with Veronica in there. That’s courtesy of her, I can’t take credit for that. My wallet isn’t as big.”

FP day up straighter and clapped him on the back.

“It’s about the sentiment, boy. Not your wallet,” he reassured him. “You’re a good man. Better than I was.”

Alice stood and crossed to the other side of the kitchen table and without hesitation pulled him into a tight embrace, hugging his head to hers fiercely, before swiftly plopping a motherly peck on the side of his beanie before pulling back completely.

To say he was shocked would be an understatement. He was also uncomfortable with the affection but that was less of a shock.

“I’m lucky that my Betty has you in her life, Jughead,” Alice cooed. “I’m sorry that hasn’t always been the sentiment I expressed.”

Awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, Jughead diffused the attention the best way he knew how; with humor. 

“That’s what we in the writer’s world call character development, Mrs. Cooper.”

  
  


**Friday, February 7, 2020**

**4:15 pm**

Veronica found her in the Blue & Gold office, slumped back in her chair against the old, filing cabinets. There were no red pens in hand and her old computer wasn’t booted up. She hadn’t even bothered to turn on the overhead lights.

Eyeing the situation warily, Ronnie stepped into the dark office, her Birkin bag perched carefully on her arm.

“Sudden vampirism, B? Or perhaps a sudden case of photophobia?”

Her response came only in the form of a grunt.

With heels clacking against the worn, ageing linoleum, Veronica crossed the room and took a seat beside her bestie, a picture of concern plastered across her features.

“Talk to me, B,” she pressed. “You don’t need to bottle-”

“I’m fine, V!” Betty scowled, standing up and positioning herself on the other side of the room.

“Betty,” Veronica said with all the warmth she could muster, “You are sitting in the dark, alone, biting at your fingernails. One, that’s not going to be easy to fix in a manicure and two, it’s just not you.”

“Maybe it is me now,” Betty shot back, her arms waving out and her face animated. “Maybe I’m not the bubbly, helpful Betty that you wanted as your best friend. Maybe this is me, now - so take it or leave it, V.”

Veronica could sense a defense tactic from a mile away. She was the queen of defense moves and power plays. And Betty? She was tossing a last shot, a Hail Mary defense play if she’d ever seen one.

“Maybe this is you,” Veronica countered. “But I don’t think for one minute that’s true. My Bettykins helps those in need and smiles when her boyfriend sticks cute little candy hearts in her locker. My Betty shrugs her shoulders and blushes when we mention smooching her Romeo in a Pop’s booth in public. My Betty doesn’t sulk, all alone, in the dark. My Betty perseveres.”

Betty stared down at the floor and moved a paperclip that she found there around with the toe of her shoe before finally looking back up at her friend.

“Mrs. Randall is making me retake the calculus test next week,” she finally spoke, her voice low and even toned. 

She went back to punishing the paperclip before continuing. 

“It seems that Reggie and I had the  _ exact _ same answers, even down to the little mistakes, so obviously one of us cheated off the other.”

“Oh, B,” Veronica sighed, knowing where this was headed.

“Of course, Reggie wouldn’t fess up and Mrs. Randall handed him an A and me a zero. She said that obviously cheating extends into  _ all  _ areas of my academic life and that she would expect me to retest on Monday during my lunch period.”

Crossing the room quickly, the click-clack, click-clack of her heels less even this time, Veronica pulled Betty into a hug. After only a nanosecond of hesitation, Betty sank into her friend, breathing out a large sigh.

“I can’t imagine how this must feel, B. Especially for you since you’ve worked so hard,” she began. “But this, Riverdale High, will only be a small part of your life. A blip on your radar. This too shall pass, as cliche as that may be.”

Betty didn’t respond, but pulled back and nodded to her friend.

“I mean,” Veronica said in a lighter tone, “If people have forgotten  _ half _ the stuff that went on with  _ me _ , then all the Betty Cooper talk will definitely die down sooner than later.”

That coaxed a small grin from Betty before a full-blown, patented Cooper side grin appeared.

“That’s my girl,” Veronica grinned back. “Now, shall we head to Pop’s for a shake? I think a little dessert would do us both well to end this atrocious week.”

“Toss in some fries and I’m all in,” Betty chirped back.

As they exited the dark office and closed the door, Veronica couldn’t help but be grateful that Jughead had a surprise ready and waiting for when Betty got home. 

**8:15 pm**

Keying her way into the front door, Betty dropped her backpack by the entryway before toeing off the tan flats she wore. 

“Betty?” Alice called from the living room. “Is that you, honey?”

Betty had been hoping no one was home, but when she saw the car in the driveway that hope was dashed. The next best thing would have been that JB was out and her Mom and FP had “turned in early” as they liked to say. Though sweets and laughs with her friend had rejuvenated her spirit a bit, she still wasn’t in the mood for any parental interactions at the moment.

“Yeah, Mom, it’s me,” she called back, stepping into view.

Alice and FP were curled up on the couch, some Richard Gere love story that no doubt made FP want to rip his skin off playing in the background.

“Your math teacher called, Elizabeth,” Alice confessed to her, watching Betty flinch and her shoulders stiffen up.

Sighing and rolling her head back, Betty groaned and muttered to herself, “This day…”

“Unlike your principal, when I explained everything to Mrs. Randall, she actually believed me.”

At that, Betty’s head snapped back up, eyes wide and questioning, focused on her mother. Alice rose up from the couch and crossed the room to hug her daughter. 

“Mrs. Randall said she never quite wanted to believe it all anyway and this whole far fetched scenario  _ actually  _ made more sense than you cheating and Reggie doing well.”

Betty softened into her embrace. “Thanks, Mom.”

“No, Betty,” Alice cut in quickly. “Don’t thank me. This whole thing is all my fault. Mrs. Randall, the Blue & Gold, Prom…”

Betty sighed again and shook her head at her mother. 

“I mean, last prom Dad tried to kill me, so I wasn’t really looking forward to trying that again and having a flashback in the middle of the gym floor.”

Alice offered a disbelieving look to her daughter before pushing some loose hair back behind her ear.

“Betty that’s not the point…”

“Mom,” Betty said listlessly, “Can we just… not tonight? I’m just so tired.”

With a tight-lipped smile, Alice stepped back to let Betty go.

“Of course dear,” she replied. “You’re welcome to join us for our chick flick, but… I think you may be more interested in what’s set up in your room right now,” she added with a wink.

With a curious quirk of her brow, Betty turned on her heels and headed up the steps to her bedroom. She had no desire to watch Richard Gere and wild horses look for love on an empty beach.

At the top of the steps she could see her bedroom door was ajar. On her bed was a pile of red and pink Valentine goodies. 

“Jughead,” she smiled to herself, pushing the door open further before heading over to examine the festive items.

Picking up the warm, flannel PJs, Betty smiled to herself and rubbed the soft fabric between her fingers. Most men would be inclined to buy lingerie for their girlfriends for Valentine’s Day. Not her boyfriend. He bought her flannels because he knew she was always chilly around the house at night. 

Shifting the pajamas to the side, she examined the heart-shaped bath bombs and scented candle before finding what she was looking for. 

Lifting up the envelope she heard the shuffle of miniature objects inside and smiled to herself knowing that there would be three confection hearts inside; the ‘calling card’ she had come to welcome over the past few days.

Sliding her finger beneath the envelope flap, she paused to imagine him sealing it closed, wondering if he had sampled some of the candy himself before choosing three to put inside.

Knowing her boyfriend, he probably ate a whole box each time he selected three for her. An entire fortune had probably been spent on conversation hearts to accomplish his goal.

An outpouring of emotion flowed through her like water from a fountain. Needing to be close and wishing he was near, she lifted the envelope seal to her lips, offering the putrid glue a quick glance of her lips to catch just an inkling of him lingering there. Kissing the flap of paper she flushed and looked around her room as if someone were watching, feeling foolish for the girlish gesture.

Tipping the envelope, three tiny candies, pink, purple, and yellow, fell out onto her bedspread along with another handwritten note.

_ Melt My Heart. Sweet Love. ILU. _

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Betty stuck the yellow heart in her mouth and unfolded the note that had accompanied the snacks. As she read, she couldn’t help but shake her head and smile broadly. 

_ Violets are purple, _

_ Some roses are yellow, _

_ Take a bath, rock these jammies, _

_ Relax and be mellow. _

Mischief glinted in her eyes and she reread the poem over and over, an idea formulating in the back of her mind. Only Jughead would have to clarify the fact that violets had more of a purple than blue hue. Shaking her head and putting the note on her nightstand, Betty grabbed the PJs and one of the bath bombs before heading into the bathroom.

Dropping her goods onto the counter, Betty turned on the tap in the bathtub, testing the temperature until it was to her liking. Once satisfied, she hopped up onto the bathroom counter and pulled out her phone and opened a familiar, and very well used contact. As the number rang, she placed the phone on speaker on the bathroom counter.

“Hey, Betts.” his voice sighed from the other side of the line. “I’m glad you called. I could use a break from this study group.”

“Yeah, well I actually called because I came home to find quite the spa package awaiting me.”

“Ah, yes. Exfoliation, acupressure, detoxification…”

“Are you just tossing out random spa terms, Jug?”

“Okay, confession,” he chuckled, happy to hear the delight in her words. “I know absolutely nothing about girls and spas except that they like them. And you like baths and like floral smells so I figured…”

Betty smiled to herself as she shut off the tap and tossed in the heart-shaped soap. Watching it sud and fizz, the water took on a pink shade and emitted the soft scent of jasmine and gardenia.

“You figured right, Jug. As always. I really needed this today, so, thank you.”

“You never have to thank me, Betty. I hate that you’ve been so… I don’t know. I just, I want something to be right for you. Everything has been so… wrong.”

“Jug,” Betty replied, voice thick with emotion. “Nothing is bad or wrong as long as I have you to come home to… most weekends.”

With the bath soap diffused, Betty slipped off her clothing and wiggled into the warm water, arm draped over the side of the tub to hold her phone.

“I wish I was there with you,” he groaned back. “I swear if I have to hear Bret make one more crack about finding the best of thyme and the worst of thyme’ in Charles Dickens’ kitchen I’m going to blow a gasket.”

Leaning back further in the water, Betty rolled her eyes and gagged at Bret’s ill attempted humor, the mischievous glint from earlier returning to her face.

“Poor, Juggie,” she cooed into the phone. “Sounds like you need a distraction.”

From the side of the tub, Betty grabbed the purple confectionary heart he had left her and popped it between her teeth, the “ILU” visible. Sinking into a comfortable posturing, she raised her phone and clicked over to the camera function. Pausing only a moment to frame the photo, she hit the shutter button before chomping down on the purple treat.

“I could be distracted,” he said expectantly, noting the swish of the bathwater in the background. “What exactly are you doing right now, Betty?”

Grinning slyly to herself, Betty took one last look at the photo she snapped before hitting send. To many, it wouldn’t be enough. Nothing below her collar bone was exposed, the rest hidden under the pink water to be left to the imagination. But for Jughead, that was part of the tease and anticipation. Less was sometimes more.

“Check your texts, Juggie,” she teased, splashing the water for effect in the background.

A mumbled, “Fu- Jesu- Huh,” along with the thump of a chair could be heard through the phone as she smiled to herself in triumph.

“Shit, Betts,” he choked out eagerly. “Give a guy some warning. I’m in the seminar room, not a private single.”

Biting her lip to stifle a smile at his discomfort, Betty replied, “Well, could you relocate to a single? I could use some help and…”

Her request was cut short by a series of giggles and gasps, followed by short periods of silence and thumps against the hallway steps.

“Betty?” he called through the phone. “You could use some help with…”

“Oh!” came Alice’s laugh followed by a deep snort from FP.

Betty frowned and smacked her lips in disgust. Nothing could ruin this moment more than their parents making out like teenagers alone without supervision for a night.

“Nevermind, Jug.” she groaned, frustrated. “Our parents have decided to relive their lurid youth again and couldn’t make it past the stairwell this time without playing tickle. I literally want to vomit in the tub.”

Groaning and shaking his head, Jughead gagged at just the thought.

“Betty, please never call me from the bathtub, send a tempting photo, and then use the words, ‘our parents’ and ‘tickle’ in the same sentence.”

“Noted,” she agreed.

“Listen, I’ve got to head back anyway. I miss you and I can’t wait for next weekend.”

“Me, too,” Betty agreed. “Night, Jug. Love you and thanks again.”

“Night, Betts,” he said softly. “I love you, too.”

Letting her phone lay flat on the tile floor, Betty relaxed back in the sweet-scented water. Seven days. Seven days until he was home and she could wrap him up, inhale his scent, and squeeze away everything else. She could make it through one more week.

**Saturday, February 8, 2020**

**Sea Salt Spa**

“Ahhhhh,” Cheryl sighed, sinking deeper into the jacuzzi tub alongside Betty and Veronica. “Cousin Betty, I owe you thanks for being a walking nine-car pile-up lately because I really needed this spa day.”

Sipping on her champagne that Veronica somehow managed to get served to their underaged group, Betty rolled her eyes at Cheryl’s usual flippant word choice.

“Glad I could be of service, Cher,” she muttered back, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Seriously, Cher,” Veronica balked. “We are supposed to be helping out dear Bettykins to get her mind  _ off _ of the travesty that has been her life lately.”

“Wow,” Betty replied, downing the rest of her glass and placing it at the side of the tub. “You know, my life isn’t a total disaster guys. Today has been great and I have you guys and Jug…”

“Yes, yes. Sisterhood and friendship and blah blah blah,” Cheryl chimed in, waving a floppy hand in the air towards her cousin. “Let’s save the traveling pants mutual appreciation speeches for after a few more glasses of bubbly and focus on what’s important this week. Valentine plans.”

Veronica sat up straighter, a slight wiggle to her shoulders in anticipation of hearing Cheryl’s grand plans.

“So, I assume you are handling the planning of your evening then, Cheryl,” Veronica said in an anticipatory tone. “And what, pray tell, do you have planned for you and your paramour?”

Cheekily, Cheryl twisted to face the girls more head one and flicked her long red hair back a bit more. The tips still dangled in the bubbly water, but most remained dry and beautifully curled.

“Well, we will be dining on some Hasselback Tomato Caprese alongside some miniature walnut and fig balls to begin with. Then some balsamic glazed steak since my TT loves her meat with some yummy ceviche style shrimp cocktail to add a little spice.”

Betty blanched a bit at the highbrow menu while Veronica hung on every word.

“No dessert, Cher?” Betty asked sarcastically.

“Of course there is dessert dear cousin,” Cheryl snapped back, face deadpanned and intent. “Chocolate.”

“Just chocolate?” Veronica queried. “Such a fancy dinner menu planned with just a chocolate for dessert? That seems un-Blossom-like.”

Cheryl smiled back at Ronnie with a cat-that-ate-the-canary look.

“Yes,” she said sweetly. “Just chocolate. Melted, Swiss chocolate served unobstructed and poured all over me and my TT. No silverware, or dinner table, required for eating.”

Betty’s eyes widened at her cousin’s brazen, yet not unexpected confession while Veronica nodded impressed.

“Damn girl,” she sighed. “I sort of wish I was your girlfriend right about now.”

Cheryl beamed and put a hand to her chest in mock jest.

“Doesn’t everyone wish that?” she teased before taking on a more serious tone. “Truthfully, I don’t think I would have survived with Toni by my side. I know she’d be happy with Netflix and a pizza, but I just want one night to spoil her silly.”

Softening to her cousin’s emotions, Betty breathed out a sweet, half-pouted smile.

“She will love it all, Cheryl,” Betty assured her. “Simply because you planned it.”

Clearing her throat, Cheryl diverted the emotional attention away from herself and back onto Veronica

“Well, obviously,” she replied cockily. “What about you, Ronnie? Archie able to take a night off of his dirty boxing and sweaty construction to take you out on the town?”

Veronica groaned and sank back against the edge of the tub, her black and gold one-piece shimmering through the bubbles.

“Honestly?” she said softly, “I don’t think either of us have it in us to get dressed up or go out on the town. With everything with my family and his family and school lately, I think a night cuddled up in bed may be what’s in order. Though we haven’t talked about the details yet, so TBA.”

“Nookie and napping,” Cheryl grinned. “Two of my favorite things. And what about you, Cousin Betty? Going to do any snake charming for your Serpent Prince next weekend?”

Before Betty could even process Cheryl’s innuendo to form a response, Veronica beat her to it.

“Oh please,” she chortled at the thought. “With all the Valentine love that cupid has been spreading over Bettykins this week, she’ll be beating that snake into submission on repeat by Saturday.”

“Oh my God, you guys!” Betty gasped, not because she was prude by any means, but it was odd to have them so openly discussing her sex life.

“Oh no, Ronnie,” Cheryl corrected. “From what TT and Fangs heard through those thin, tin-can walls her future hubby used to call home, the submission very much tends to fall the other way.”

Though the water was warm and they were all a bit pink, none were as pink as Betty. She was carnation, then crimson, then an almost eggplant as she glared down her girls.

“Oh come on, Cousin,” Cheryl sighed with an eye roll as Veronica tried hard to contain her laughter. “It’s totally normal to explore your kinkier side with a trusted companion. TT and I…”

Holding up a hand to pause her speech, Betty stopped Cheryl mid-sentence.

“Cheryl, I do  _ not  _ want to hear what goes on behind your closed doors,” Betty confirmed.

Starting to get overly warm, Veronica climbed from the hot tub first to fasten a fluffy white robe that sat nearby around herself.

“B,” she said with a quirk of her brow. “You know we’re both just jealous that your Mr. Dark and Broody has been putting all other boys to shame this week. If he weren’t yours, I’d jump him myself.”

Shaking her head and besmirching a slight smile, Betty climbed out of the heated water as well and grabbed for her robe on the lounge chair, followed by Cheryl.

“Do you at least have good lingerie picked out, cousin?” Cheryl questioned as she dried the tips of her hair. “Because if not, I can definitely dress an ass like yours and the day is still young after we’re done with our massages.”

Betty filled a nearby Waterford glass with some of the mint, cucumber, raspberry infused water from the hydration station nearby. Downing the glass in its entirety, she filled it once more, this time opting for smaller sips and she turned back to her friends, a contemplative look across her face.

“Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt to be prepared… just in case,” she responded, a knowing smile forming on her lips.

“Yes!” Veronica chimed. “Atta girl, B! But seriously, we all know there’s no just in case. You’ve been worse than characters on a CW teen drama with your extracurriculars in regards to each other lately.”

Shrugging innocently, Betty finished her glass once again and said, “I was suspended for ten days. What else was there to do,” before turning and heading towards the massage rooms, the giggles and dismayed looks of her friends following close behind.

As she headed towards the massage room, she tossed back over her shoulder, “Hey, Cher? Maybe we could also pick up some of that Swiss chocolate you were mentioning earlier. Jug has a pretty big appetite.”

With a satisfied smirk, Betty disappeared behind the curtain and left Cheryl and Veronica dumbfounded.

“I love Dirty Cousin Betty,” Cheryl sighed wistfully. “So much more fun than Lovestruck Vanilla Betty.”

**Monday, February 10, 2020**

**10:43 am**

The weekend had been exactly what Betty had needed to get herself back in a better headspace. A spa day with the girls had relaxed her tense muscles and the giggles that accompanied the massages and downtime had lifted her spirits.

Sunday had been spent baking Valentine cookies and rice cereal treats with her mom and JB. It was so normal that it almost hurt to think about how happy the simplicity of it all made her feel whole again. 

Though FP had dug into the cookies the minute he came home, she had squirreled some tins away for Jughead when he got back to Riverdale on Friday afternoon.

Jughead was, without a doubt, the most fun part of her weekend. They may have been separated by an hour-long train ride, but Saturday night she was able to video chat him while their parents were at dinner and JB at a friend’s house to show him exactly how she planned on using the bath bombs he had left her. 

She smiled to herself as she remembered the look on his face when she called, dressed in her best impression of Lady Godiva, the suds of the bathtub not leaving much to the imagination this time. She was  _ positive _ that he would be home on Friday now, no matter what.

Shooting down the hall, she passed the closed, dark door of the Blue and Gold and felt a tinge of sadness for a moment.

_ “It doesn’t matter,” _ she told herself reassuringly.  _ “A few more weeks and this is all just a memory.” _

Pushing her way through the crowd, she walked into Mrs. Randall’s calculus class only to be greeted by broad grins and expectant eyes again. Quickly scanning the room, she found Veronica perched in the back again, looking smug as ever.

Charging past the jealous glances, she found her normal seat with another set of mushy, festive Valentine gifts.

“Let me guess,” she said to Veronica sarcastically. “After seeing me in a bikini this weekend, Cheryl just couldn’t help herself.”

“Nice guess, Betty,” Cheryl snapped from behind. “But we are not Jason and Polly and while I’ll admit, you have filled out nicely, I’m not into blondes. Lucky for you, your biker-gone-preppy vagabond is a fan of your platinum locks.”

Betty grinned down and shook her head at the contraband on her desk. A box of heart-shaped chocolates, chocolate roses, and three more candy hearts took up space on her desk next to a teddy bear in a t-shirt that read, “I can’t believe how much I’m not sick of you.”

Picking up the hearts, #1 fan, School Mate, and 2000 kisses, Betty chomped on the snack-sized candies and picked up the letter that was once again, handwritten on a heart-shaped notecard.

9x-7i > 3(3x-7u)

9x-7i > 9x-21u

-7> 21u

I < 3 u

As her heart clenched warmly at his preplanned display of affection, a shadow fell over her from behind.

Turning on her heels, she found the half disgusted, quarter amused and quarter green with envy gaze of Mrs. Randall behind her.

“Perhaps, Ms. Cooper,” she mumbled, still gazing at the love note on her desk. “if Mr. Jones had been that good at math when he was here, he would have better school prospects in his future.”

As she strolled down the aisle towards her desk, Betty couldn’t contain her tongue; a recent and problematic issue for her.

“Actually, Ms.Randall,” she called after her. “Jughead got into Yale and will be attending in the fall. They think he shows  _ great  _ promise.”

About to write a warm-up problem on the chalkboard, the chalk snapped in half due to the pressure she put on the yellow stick. Turning back around, she plastered a tight-lipped grin on her face.

“Yes, well,” she mumbled. “Many congratulations then to Mr. Jones.” Twisting back to the board she added, under her breath, “Yet I was rejected from Yale and no one has sent me flowers since hippies reigned. Somehow a smart-mouthed teenage hoodlum has better future prospects than I do.”

Biting her lip, Betty slunk down in her chair and pulled out her phone.

**BC:** I also can’t believe how much I’m not sick of you… or your gross, public, societally-forced displays of affection.

**JJ:** Ah, good. I see you got today’s presents. 

**BC:** Yes, ‘acute’ equation from my ‘smart-mouthed teenage hoodlum’ boyfriend.

**JJ:** Good to know that Mrs. Randall still misses me and my charms. Class is starting. Talk later. <3

**BC:** <3

Reaching from the seat to her right, Veronica snagged a piece of chocolate as Mrs. Randall ranted about the importance of representing your work visually. Feeling generous, Betty held the box out to Cheryl on her right and was met with a foul expression and a gag.

“As if I would be caught dead eating year-old dollar store chocolates out of a heart-shaped paper box,” she balked. “Have some standards.”

Rolling her eyes, Betty popped a chocolate in her mouth and picked up her pink gel pen to write. The chocolate may not have been imported from Switzerland, but it was certainly sent with love.

**Wednesday, February 12, 2020**

**3:15 pm**

The week was flying by quickly and Betty had never been more grateful. They had made it to hump day, and she was bursting with excitement that she could celebrate her own version of hump day in just forty-eight more hours.

Closing her locker, Kevin scooted in beside her and linked his arm through hers.

“Care to join me at Pop’s, Betty,” he chirped, a little extra pep in his step. “I have news I’d like to share.”

Leaning into his side, Betty couldn’t help but feel happy. It was nice to have her exuberant friend back and in good spirits; another thing that helped keep her moving forward and positive.

“If this is about your awkward and, quite frankly, disturbing, tickle videos, I’m already aware, Kev,” she informed him.

“First of all,” he retorted defensively. “They are  _ not _ weird, they are  _ art. _ Second, it’s not about that anyway and I won’t take no for an answer.”

She was never going to say no from the beginning, but getting him riled up was a favorite pasttime of hers.

“Fine,” she conceded, heading out the doors of Riverdale High with him. “I could use a strawberry shake after that English Lit test.”

At Pop’s, Kevin had directed them to a booth near the back. Sliding across the vinyl, Betty picked up a menu, more out of habit than anything else. Before she could even open the pages, a strawberry milkshake with the ripe, red fruit cut into a heart appeared before her along with a plate with some strawberries dipped in chocolate.

Her eyes tracing a path from the treats up to the arm connected with them, she found Pop Tate himself smiling down at her. 

“Pop?” She asked with a sideways grin.

“Courtesy of Mr. Jones,” he winked at her, before heading back down the aisle and behind the counter.

Betty bit her lip and smiled up at Kevin from under her eyelashes, pushing the plate forward to offer him one of the yummy desserts.

Nodding in thanks, he grabbed one and took a bit, groaning about and savoring the flavor.

“I swear if this whole scenario was happening to anybody but you, I’d be so angry and jealous,” he confessed.

“And you’re not angry or jealous right now?” she teased back. 

“Okay,” he admitted. “I’m totally jealous, but in the best, supportive type of way.”

Grabbing his hands, the pair began to laugh across the booth until the bell above the front door jingled and Kevin’s gaze turned towards the guy who entered.

Seeing his eyes flicker, Betty turned her head and saw Fangs coming their way, his guitar in tow.

“Hey Fangs,” Betty smiled, hoping his appearance meant that he and Kev were reconnecting. “Kevin and I were just having some of these amazing sweets. Want to join?”

Fangs leaned against the booth across from them and perched his guitar on his hip before nodding over at Pop at the counter.

“I will definitely take you up on that, Betty,” he said with a glance in Kevin’s direction. “But first, I am here on official business.”

Lifting the guitar higher, he began to play. As he strummed the chords and Betty began to recognize the familiar tune, a smaller plate appeared in front of her with three, tiny candy hearts atop it. The calling card of one Jughead  _ Romeo _ Jones. 

_ First Kiss. First Love. Only Love _ .

As she finished reading the candy, Fangs launched into the lyrical part of the song.

_ “Uptown girl _

_ She's been living in her uptown world _

_ I bet she's never had a backstreet guy _

_ I bet her mama never told her why _

_ I'm gonna try for an uptown girl _

_ She's been living in her white bread world _

_ As long as anyone with hot blood can _

_ And now she's looking for a downtown man _

_ That's what I am” _

By this point, the other six patrons in Pop’s, along with Pop Tate himself, all joined in on the fun to sing along. Fang’s was unsurprisingly great at the guitar and his magnetic personality had everyone bopping along.

_ “She'll see I'm not so tough _

_ Just because _

_ I'm in love with an uptown girl _

_ You know I've seen her in her uptown world _

_ She's getting tired of her high class toys _

_ And all her presents from her uptown boys _

_ She's got a choice _

_ Uptown girl _

_ You know I can't afford to buy her pearls _

_ But maybe someday when my ship comes in _

_ She'll understand what kind of guy I've been _

_ And then I'll win” _

At some point during the serenade, Kevin had developed serious heart eyes and was now belting the tune out in his best show tune performance voice.

_ “And when she's walking _

_ She's looking so fine _

_ And when she's talking _

_ She'll say that she's mine _

_ She'll say I'm not so tough _

_ Just because _

_ I'm in love _

_ With an uptown girl.” _

To finish off, Fangs strummed at the strings vigorously, holding the last note out long as hoots and hollers came from the other patrons, now clapping and applauding his performance.

“Don’t think the irony of Fangs serenading you as I watch has been lost on me, Betty,” he sighed. “That man can certainly carry a tune.”

Taking a bow, Fangs unstrapped the guitar from around his neck and slid into the booth across from Betty.

“Fangs,” Betty said warmly. “That was absolutely amazing. I can’t believe Jug put you up to this and you said yes,”

Shrugging before stealing a strawberry from the plate, he just shrugged and smiled back at her.

“What can I say, Betty?” he said through his bite of fruit and chocolate. “I’m a hopeless romantic and this was just too beautiful to say no.”

A dab of chocolate wiped across his chin and Kevin leaned over to wipe it off with his fingertip. Judging by the looks Fangs gave him, the heart eyes here we’re definitely not one-sided.

“Kev, Fangs?” Betty called softly to pull them from their moment. “I actually have to get going guys. But you enjoy the treats. I’d say you earned them for getting me here and that performance.”

Grabbing her candy hearts off the little plate, she hugged them both before waving a goodbye to Pop and heading out the door. Though it was cold, she was feeling content and warm and decided a walk home would do her well.

As she strolled her way home, her fingers repeatedly twisted around the candy hearts in her coat pocket. She couldn’t bring herself or eat these because she knew he had purposely picked these three as his last gestures before he came home on Friday. They were each other’s first kiss, first  _ real  _ love, not the false puppy love she had felt before him, and he would certainly be her only love, she had no doubts about that.

Small silvery flakes of snow began to drift down as she made it to Elm Street, fusing her to pull her coat a bit tighter around herself. Gliding up the steps to their home, she shook off the offending precipitation and looked up at her bedroom window, memories of their first kiss washing over her.

_ “Oh yes,” _ she thought.  _ “My first, my last, my everything.” _

**Friday, February 14, 2020**

**6:10 pm**

The clock ticked like a slow drip from a leaky faucet the whole day through. Seconds felt like decades and hours felt like a lifetime. He would be home today, maybe even home already. 

The worst of it all was she couldn’t even run right out when the bell rang. Ethel was part of the dance committee and as part of her punishment, Mr. Honey promised her that Betty would help decorate for the affair; the affair she was also banned from attending.

She hadn’t planned on going to the dance anyway, rather opting for a night alone with her love. But stringing streamers and hearts for a party you couldn’t even attend if you wanted to was cruel and unusual punishment.

So while her long-distance love was probably home waiting for her, Betty hung more sparkled decorations, glancing down at her watch to see it was now six o’clock.

“Ethel,” she huffed, plopping the excess hearts down on the table. “I think I got them all. Can I head out now?”

Ethel gave Betty a sad, pitiful look. “Of course, go. We’re all going home to get ready anyway. I’m really sorry you're not allowed to come tonight. It’s just cruel.”

Betty tossed Ethel a look as if she were crazy before reminding herself that Ethel really did mean well.

“That’s alright, Ethel,” she said, shifting her way towards the door. “Jug is actually home waiting for me, so I wasn’t planning on coming anyway. Have fun tonight!”

Turning to sprint her way out the door, she saw Ethel pick up the discarded hearts she placed down in preparation to hang more. She hadn’t been done, but wanted to allow Betty to get home to Jughead. 

She made a mental note to include Ethel in her plans more often before remembering that senior year was flying to an end.

_ “A few more months, Betty,”  _ she reminded herself again.

Pulling her car into the driveway, she quickly checked her hair in the car mirror, having opted to leave it down today since Jug had mentioned many times how he loved her hair down. She painted on a fresh layer of her sheer pink lip gloss before hopping from the car and taking the steps two at a time. 

As she got closer to the top steps she noticed that little heart candies were scattered all about the steps and up towards the house. Jabbing her key in the lock and barging through the front door, Betty tossed her bag to the side with haste.

The first sight greeting her wasn’t Jughead, but FP and Alice gathering their coats in the front hall. Ignoring their hellos, she glanced around them and saw his tall, lean form leaning against the kitchen counter

Pushing past her mother, she all but launched herself at him, their lips connecting with such force that he let out a pained “mmpphh” against her mouth when his back collided with the granite. Despite the slight jarring collision, their lips were nothing but smiles as she kissed him softly, looking up at him happily through her eyelashes.

After a moment she pulled back shyly, seemingly realizing that their parents were still in the house.

“Hi,” she cooed out happily.

“Hi,” he grinned back goofily. “Didn’t miss me at all, did you?”

“Shut up,” she chortled, tossing in an eye roll for good measure before slapping him lightly on the chest.

“Betty?” Alice’s voice cut through the moment. “FP and I are heading out. We will probably be home around midnight.

“I thought you guys were planning on staying in tonight and maybe going out tomorrow?” Betty said confused.

“We were,” FP grinned. “But  _ somebody  _ was hoping you could have the house to yourself for the night so JB is sleeping at Kaitlyn’s house and we decided to brave the crowds, see a movie, and grab some dinner.”

“And we don’t mind at all,” Alice jumped in, sending a pointed look Jughead’s way. “But when we get home tonight, that bedroom door better be open and you better be wearing those lovely flannels from Jughead. You catch my drift Elizabeth?”

Betty pursed her lips to subdue a small smile. She and her mother had been growing closer again over the past few weeks. When the drama of a potential sex tape emerged, she hadn’t berated her or scolded her, said, “I told you so,” or anything. She had supported her and embraced her and helped her through it all.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” she teased. “Just don’t open the door if there’s a sock hanging on the knob and you won’t have to worry about my pajama choice.”

“Elizabeth!” she gasped, as Jughead and FP awkwardly avoided eye contact and shuffled on their feet.

“Mom,” she reassured her. “Relax, it was a joke. Just have a nice dinner and enjoy. You guys deserve a night out.”

With a skeptical look between the two of them, Alice finally cleared her throat and buttoned her coat.

“Yes, I suppose we do deserve a night out. You two have fun… but not too much fun,” she tossed out before turning and grabbing FP by the arm to head out into the cold. FP tossed a small wave over his shoulder and disappeared through the doorway as well, the red door closing behind them.

“So,” Jughead teased the second they were gone. “Are you  _ really  _ going to be wearing those flannels later in the evening?”

Betty wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself in closer.

“Maybe,” she said nonchalantly. “But if I am, it won’t be for long.”

Through the quiet still of the house, only soft sighs and small pecks could be heard. He could feel her hands trembling as they rose up the back of his neck into his hair, pulling his face to hers so she could drink him in deeply. 

Though he could continue this all night and never tire, she pulled back, breath shallow, to rest his forehead against hers, noses rubbing together gently.

“God, I missed you, Jug,” she finally breathed out heavily. “Is it normal to need someone this much?”

“I’m not really sure,” he breathed back, placing a quick peck against the side of her lip. “But it’s definitely not one-sided.”

Sucking in a deep breath, he pulled back, pecking a final kiss on the back of her hand that was clasped in his.

“As much as I’d like to continue… this, I did have some plans for the evening.”

For the first time since she had walked in the door, she smelled the aroma of tomato sauce and spices hanging in the air.

“Jug?” she asked skeptically. “Are you cooking?”

Reluctantly, he dropped her hand and trudged over to the oven, placing her mother’s yellow oven mitts on his hands, he leaned over to open the oven door and pulled out a tray with a large, heart-shaped pizza on an extra-large pizza tin.

“Ouch!” he yelled, nipping the tray back and forth as he fumbled it to the counter. “These mitts are thin! How does your mother not burn herself on everything she touches.”

Leaning against the counter admiring his food art, Betty nicked a small, burnt piece of cheese off the side to snack on.

“I’m pretty sure when you’re part dragon you don’t feel heat or fire,” Betty reasoned. “Jug, this is adorable. I can’t believe you cooked. I mean, cooking for you is normally a Pop-Tart.”

Gasping in mock horror, he took out two wine glasses, two water glasses, some plates and a pizza cutter to begin serving his dish.

“Elizabeth!” he called. “How dare you mock me and the feast I prepared. This was made with love.”

“Alright,” she warned him. “Now you  _ sound _ like my mother and that’s definitely not attractive.”

Waggling his brows, Jughead sliced up the heart-shaped meal and put some on plates, while Betty poured some wine into the glasses he had placed out. Once those items had made it to the table, she filled up water glasses and he grabbed some garlic bread from the oven that had been baking there as well.

“You sure you want me to eat garlic tonight, Jug?” she asked casually as she placed down the glasses. “I had plans that involved your lips on mine after dinner.”

The bread slipped into a basket and tossed on the table as well as he sauntered over to wrap his arms around her neck.

“Betts,” he said as if his words should be completely obvious to her. “There is nothing on this green earth that could stop me from kissing you. What’s a little garlic breath between lovers?”

Betty reached up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms back around his neck as well.

“What if I was on Survivor and ate a cockroach?” she teased.

He popped a small kiss to her forehead. “I’d still kiss you,” 

“What if I became allergic to toothpaste and couldn’t brush my teeth?”

“I’d still kiss you,” he said, kissing the corner of her mouth this time. “Betts, nothing you say would make me not want to kiss you. I kissed you last year after you drank poison during Penelope’s little fun run. Why would you think garlic or a cockroach would stop me?”

A slight gasp left her lips as she pulled him closer, spreading her fingers out over the back of his neck as she spoke in a soft, trembling voice.

“Juggie, I- I you’re right. Oh, God, Jug. I didn’t even realize. Why would you do that?!”

Jughead places his hands by the base of her neck, his thumbs slowly tilting her jaw up towards his.

“First kiss,” he spoke softly, leaving a light kiss on her lips. “First love,” he said next, leaving another small kiss there.

Staring down at her seriously and intently, his voice somehow even softer and more reverent, he finished with the declaration from his third candy heart.

“Only love,” he cooed, leaving a still soft, but more distinct kiss on her lips, a dab of moisture left behind where they pressed.

“I meant that, Betty,” he vowed. “You’re it for me. I can’t imagine ever loving someone the way I love you.”

“Juggie,” she choked out, a few tears pooling in her eyes. 

Without any ability to articulate what she felt, she translated her blank words into actions, kissing him fiercely. She kissed him deeply, long passionate, yet soft kisses that spoke volumes in their wake.

He moved his body against her, rolling his hips and shifting his feet until she was once again pressed against the kitchen island countertop. Lifting her quickly, he plopped her down on the granite, his lips never faltering in their journey across her own.

She found herself moving against him, keeping tempo with the long, drawn-out kisses he was administering to make her ache for him. His fingers combed through her tresses, silently thanking her for leaving them down, anchoring her face to his own before his lips left hers with a groan and a pop to travel down her neck.

Stretching her neck up higher to give him better access, Betty sighed at the warm, familiar contact. She could have done this for hours, days even if his stomach hadn’t rumbled like the roar of a jet.

“Ignore that,” he mumbled, his words muffled into her neck. 

But no sooner had he spoke that his stomach trembled once again, her pulse jarring under his ministrations as her chest shook with laughter.

“C’mon, Juggie,” she encouraged him. “You cooked, you're hungry, and we should eat. There’s plenty of time later for catching up.”

Hugging out a groan, Jughead pulled back and helped her hope down off the counter before pulling out her chair at the table.

“This really all looks amazing, Jug,” she complimented him as she slid into the chair and he pushed her seat in. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

“I was worried you’d be upset that after all my hype I didn’t plan a night out, but I honestly thought with how crazy things have been we could use a night, just us, cuddled up and without any outside distraction.”

Reaching across the table, Betty grabbed his hand and gave it a slight squeeze.

“It’s perfect, Jug,” she confirmed. “This is exactly what I wanted. Just us, no outside world, no noise. Just you and me… and pizza.”

“Well then,” he said cockily. “Dig in. Pizza a’la heart is my specialty.”

They ate and chatted, catching up on the goings-on of the week and just the small things. Though he wasn’t a huge fan of wine, he figured cheap beer would spoil the romantic feel of the night and champagne with pizza was probably overkill. Halfway through the meal, he refilled their glasses. They weren’t looking to feel giddy, just relaxed and unstressed. Alice and FP would probably kill him later when they realized he had pilfered the bottle from their wine rack, but honestly they both owed them so he didn't care at all.

With the pizza finished and plates scattered, they had retreated to the living room couch, Betty reclined against his chest as they watched the fireplace crackling in the background.

“I have to hand it to you, Jug,” Betty smiled as her fingertips played with his own. “I knew you were an old soul, but I had no idea how romantic you really were until this week.”

“Betts,” he sighed, shifting to get a better view of her face. “If you haven’t realized by now, you kind of make me stupid. And I mean that in the best way. There’s pretty much nothing that I wouldn’t do for you.”

Betty bit her lip to contain a smile, one brow raised up above the other and a glint in her eyes.

“Oh really?” she challenged him. “Well, maybe there’s something you and I can do for each other, right now, to help de-stress even more.”

He didn’t need a codex, or a key to decipher the meaning behind her words. In the blink of an eye, he was off the couch and she was in his arms, his long legs carrying them both up the stairs as her shriek was muffled by her face against his neck.

Plopping her down on their shared bed, he shifted to the side a bit so he wasn’t completely covering her, his lips and tongue tracing the shell of her ear as his palm took up space across her stomach.

Betty raised both arms and pushed him back a bit.

“Wait,” she breathed out heavily. “I may have done a little shopping with Cheryl and V in preparation for my evening outfit. It’s part of your Valentine's gift.”

His pupils dilated and eyes filled with lust, but he shook his head softly.

“I could literally die a happy man just  _ thinking _ about you in whatever you bought, but maybe we can save that and the kink for tomorrow night.”

Betty rolled to her side a bit and eyes him as if he were ill.

“Everything okay?” she prompted softly.

“More than okay, Betty. I just missed you and thought tonight could be us. No costumes, no rush, just slow and intense and… I just want tonight to be about love.”

“Wow,” she nodded, a brow quirked again. “You know you’re already getting laid, right?”

“I- you,” he began, before assaulting her ribs with his fingertips, drawing out sharp laughs from her lips, before silencing the sounds with his own.

Rolling her over, he fell between her legs, never faltering in the attention his lips were paying to hers. She was not an idle participant either, her fingers weaving through his hair and pulling him in deeper, each roll of his hips perfectly in time with each clash of teeth or brush of tongue.

He pulled back, only for a fraction of a second to tug at the bottom of her sweater, begging for its removal. Never one to disappoint, and definitely one to overachieve, she not only began to shed the shirt but the rest of her clothing as well as he did the same.

They lay that way for a long while under the floral blankets, chest to chest, nose to nose. They kissed deeply and they kissed leisurely. Despite their lack of dress, their hands explored fairly safe territory; sweeping across collarbones, inching up ribs, and tracing patterns across each other’s shoulders.

“Is it even possible other people feel like this?” she asked. “That people feel the way we do when we’re together. It’s like your pulse is flowing through me and my chest wants to burst with how I feel.”

He brushed his nose down the tendon in her neck, his lips barely brushing along as he descended, his thumbs gripping her tightly, gripping at the span of her waist. 

“I can’t imagine they could, but I really hope, for their sake, that I’m wrong,” he whispered, dragging his eyes back up to hers. “Not to wax poetic, but what we have, how much love I feel for you, it must be rare. Special.”

“I love you too, Juggie,” she said, hushed.

After that, they spoke no more. Nimble fingers and talented lips ensured the only sounds in the room were that of passionate gasps and wanton moans. He traced every inch of her, drawing his name from her lips and marking her as his own.

Only when he was satisfied with the depth of her desire did he finally allow them to connect, hips anchored together with barely an inch of space between them. As far as their romantic endeavors went, and they had dabbled in many scenarios, this proved the most intimate. 

Their eyes held the other’s gaze and their lips touched and brushed only offering kisses on quick occasions between their motion. 

The room thick with sentiment and intensity, she crashed first, willing herself to keep their connection. He followed only moments later, cradling her face between his fingers, palm sliding along her jaw.

As they lay trembling and spent, he rolled them both to their sides, their bodies still close and connected before offering her more soft, wet kisses and gentle caresses.

A few moments layered she summoned the strength to speak.

“That was… emotional? Intense? Beautiful? I’m not really sure how to even articulate it.”

“How about we don’t define what it was,” he suggested. “And we just enjoy the aftermath.”

“I need to give you your gift, Jug,” she said, not drifting from his embrace despite her words.

“Later,” he commanded. “Stay with me for now.”

Around midnight they heard the clicking of the front door and heavy footfalls on the steps. Despite the warning, she knew Alice wouldn’t disturb them, no matter how many hollow threats she made. 

Once she heard their bedroom door securely closed, she jumped up from the bed, ignoring Jughead’s groan of protest.

“Gift, Juggie,” she whined. “I’ve been dying to give you your surprise.”

Pulling out a small box from the dresser, she slipped back over to the bed, now clad in one of his old “S” t-shirts. Handing him the package, she smiled as he undid the red ribbon attached to the top.

“Betty,” he scolded. “We said no ‘gifts’.”

“Jughead,” she drawled out. “You literally showered me with presents all week. Just open the damned box.”

Lifting the lid, he opened the box to find a leather-bound journal, the cover imprinted with, “ _ If a story is in you, it has to come out. _ ”

“I thought you could use it to work on your short stories or ideas on the go. I know you like the feel of a pen in your hand.”

“I love it, Betty,” he declared with a kiss. “Thank you. I may have also gotten you a little something, too.”

“Jug!” she giggled. “You seriously did enough all week.”

Lumbering from the bed, he sighed through his duffle bag for the small box he had hidden there. Grabbing the black package, he sat back down on the bed’s edge and handed her the square.

Betty popped open the lid and couldn’t help but smile. Nestled inside was a necklace, a small heart, not unlike he had given her in candy form all week, attached to a delicate chain. The heart read, “ _ My Love. _ ”

“It was kind of an original conversation heart saying,” he confessed blushing. “I figured while I’m still away it could just be a reminder for you that I’m thinking of you.”

She took the chain from the box and deftly fastened it around her neck.

“I love it,” she said sweetly. “It’s perfect. Now, in the words of another wise conversation heart… Kiss Me, Jug.”

So, he did. Who was he to argue with Betty Cooper or the Valentine candy capitalists?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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